Page 16 of Whispers of Ruin

She shrugs. “You’ll see soon enough.”

With that, she turns away, slipping seamlessly back into the role of the perfect, lovely companion. But I cannot shake the tension settling in my stomach.

What the hell did I just walk into?

Mira does not belong in this world.

The only place she belongs is with me, by my side, in my arms. Not in this sea of polished sharks, dressed in their finest suits, flashing their power and wealth like warning signs with price tags. I should tear their eyes out for daring to lay them on her, but damn, I cannot deny it—she wears it better than anyone ever could.

The deep red of her dress clings to her like skin, the slit teasing glimpses of smooth skin with every step she takes. Her hair is a cascade of fire, a stark contrast to the fox mask that hides just enough of her face to make me want to rip it off. To remind her she cannot hide from me, because I do not want her to. She will have to learn that I am here for her own good, that she needs me to survive.

An unexpected message shatters the trance my girl’s body had cast over me.

I exhale slowly, forcing my grip to loosen.

Handle this himself?

That could mean anything. A threat. A warning. A reminder of who’s really in charge. In any way, I cannot let that happen.

Mira stands near the dance floor, ignorant of the importance of the words on my screen. I force myself to look away from her and scan the room. First, I must deal with the men.

They stand in a loose circle, expensive whiskey in hand, talking like they own everything. One of them—older, well-dressed, the type that takes without asking—tilts his glass toward Mira.

“She is something, isn’t she?” he muses, eyes trailing over her.

I take a sip of my drink, even though the impulse to slit his throat right here, right now, is intensely strong, I stay silent.

“She keeps looking at me,” he continues. “Waiting for a real man to come claim her properly.”

Fucking liar.

“She doesn’t seem like the type to say yes easily,” another man comments.

The older one chuckles.

“They never do. Well, not at first at least.”

I let out a low laugh, shaking my head as if amused.

“You just need the right setting,” I say smoothly as I approach the group. “Somewhere quieter. Somewhere she can’t make a scene.”

His lips curl into a pleased smirk.

Good. Take the bait.

Because the moment he gets her alone, I am going to be there. I will make sure he never looks at her again.

“I think I’ll give it a go. Gentlemen.”

I finish my sentence with a playful wink, making my new ‘friends’ laugh, egging me on. They are such disgusting pieces of shit. They deserve to have one of them gutted, and another strung up by with his intestines.

Of course, I smother the impulse. I need to find a way to speak to Mira, to get through to her without her running off in terror.

Instead of walking towards her direction, I head for Julian, puffing up his chest in front of his colleagues, telling some idiotic story about how women are like stocks. They can rise in value, but one wrong move, and they are worthless.

“That is why you’ve got to keep them well-maintained,” I interrupt. “They are just like cars. You put money into them and then you’re ready to take them for a ride.”

Julian laughs heartily, extending his hand toward me, free from his champagne flute.

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